I better chose life as a soul
by digitalextremist (http://digitalextremist.com)

best friends, even siblings choose suicide,
still people say, "they're in a better place"
why never while I'm high

when I'm outside, liberated from body
existing spiritually within eccentricity
but still visiting

from a great illegality, they
hate fearfully and obfuscate,
provoking me to retaliate-
meek and honest: powerless
(they cower behind State)

towering above physicality, with
true supernatant perspective.
polemical, but without detrimental
toxicant chemicals:
and still illegal?
are they that ignorant?

Doubtful; rashly indifferent, likely
defiant; even megalomaniacal.
They know all this full well,
only a handfull don't notice; how
natural is better than pharmecutical
spiritual supreme versus material

(individual,
more valuable
than governmental;
and original, desired
over rote educational:
a surging academic swell, to
promote cubicles and other cells.)

I'm hostage in a self provided shell.
I didn't leave for hell, but we collided;
I'm stalled by dry pursuit of wealth
proudly demanding I pay postage:
"Wear a pressed suit; go surrender
to the career view of health and
happiness." Become a mute
stranger to bliss; a stone-
hearted cold pretender.

However, not said desperate,
no death wish; perplexed wonder,
people condemn what's good and moderate,
blessing who've done what none should ever.

I hope most of me survives censor
by digitalextremist (http://digitalextremist.com)

Funny how the idea of memory retention
sticks around, though while sleeping
our cells jettison their information;
forever cleansed for each new again.

But tell me, where's education then?
Much less identity while we're gone,
resting from a breathing marathon.

In fore consciousness I look toward bliss,
though not of ignorance; instead of grace
finalizing the redeeming of knowledge.

Logos was shared clean and fast tarnished,
we're damned without mercy's forgiveness,
because who could cover just one invoice
billed to us for restoring intelligence?

Much less the untold billions of hearts
equipped with bodies, furnished brains
but self programmed to filter convictions.
The pigs wallowing in muddy rebellion
ignoring the gate open in the interim
until the butcher comes to fetch them.

Hell is then an avoidable debtors sentence;
like the IRS, it's a phantom life style fortress-
burning from the inside out, too embarrassed
to admit failure, escaping wrath by repentance.
The growing stress of covering compounded lies
self reliant, forbidding truth to easily liberate us.

Even the public waives arbitrary punishment
when a confession confirms rehabilitation.
All that matters is positive progress -
fault finding causes us to digress;
and of course, God knows this.

Still, we setup incubation organizations-
guilt museums for those bored by innocence.
Our churches, schools and unjust governments.
The dead parade still enjoying live appendages.

Swatting flies off of my fallen carcass,
the body wasting away into darkness,
I will use my time with the hopeless.
Prayers plead for near impossible focus,
aim chaotic order at pursuading the lifeless:
kind intent resolved to tip a false armistice;
who better to vouch for still raging conflicts
than the testifying voices of its dead soldiers.

Faith, hope, and love remain with us
through the changing of consciousness,
and faithfully I hope my love's verses
will endure through this life's curses.

When I set soul in heaven, out of time
freed of places, I hope to meet the spirit
squeezing out of me as characters on pages.
The immaterial me after the material sieve.
It only allows I keep what I'm willing to give.

However, sin lives in the abundance of words,
so I know I'll only see them after God's revisions.

Still though, I always hope my fore consciousness
agrees with my after consciousness, so I retain this
best used time between two metaphysical solstice'

digitalxtremist

01-20-05, 06:57 AM

American Adriot
by digitalextremist (http://digitalextremist.com)

Enter deft brown pioneer,
a post-modern prophet, shot
into the upper front'in tiers.
bereft underdogs deserve a rocket
boost; a champion to recover lost years
(ghettos erupt in emancipated cheers)

Mexicans keep on calling me homie
they're always assume I'm one of them,
and white men think I sport a designer tan
(but check 'hispanic' as they put me in the can)
meanwhile, Asians wonder why my eyes aren't thin
I'm a joint in humanity, and my role is set to begin

Hate to disappoint them, I'm hybrid South African
Grecian, plus Native American Chieftain mixed in-
my genetic algorithm, is an equation for infinity;
I could list ancestral donors for ever and a day.
Earth's ethnicities were aligned by my doctor
opening lungs with a spanking thought routine

his hand's impact
expelled a period in history
when the wealthy, finally
reconciled to those in poverty
(both sides believe I arbitrate logically
clean of bias)

my given name when translated says
(literally, in three languages)
dark brown warrior prince
with God's judgment

All those reverent,
open your windows and listen intently,
ultra orderly words reach in as the wind blows.
Mantras tailored to program our world for peace,
tractor beams collecting trust from men who know
corrupt authorities muddied the people of dust
(for real justice was buried under yellow snow,
and truth's last remaining glow used to brand us)

governments can't be trusted
to be driven wholeheartedly
(much less safely)

no truly good solution's pattern will spawn bureaucracy
(it ends accountability, quickly paves a way to tyranny)
civil service is to be carried out sincerely and selflessly
diligently, personally, and most importantly: in humility
(for it's the pinnacle of sanity, premise of rationality)

atrocities can be curbed with scrutinizing vigilance
countries divide a future community free of decadence
(who could afford indulgence inside purposeful synergy)
society will be digitally spun around responsibilities
my sheer heredity queues it with my destiny begun
by heeded testimony, come near - I explain keys
leave an open ear to the announcing breeze

feline, Adrianne sat, looking jet black directly
mad eyes match those pictures in the hall
portraits I try not to contact, lest they
take me where I know far too plainly
they haunt numb memories of a family
buried in decorative flair, but staring out

I graft in, so now she follows me too, painfully
half law-sibling from before destiny brought we
about; well after her sad exodus, auto-untimely,
deep unique spirit broken by such bleak society
loved ones, held under contract of nine to five;
I also try to stay, but to survive, often I drive

long faces etched in by tragic times and places
drain energy, throw out healthy countenance

my spirit endures, label asserts unbreakable;
its build on the unshakable and all encompassing,
I learn long suffering, what remains isn't my will
can't be, for she reminds me of my failure's scars
before I hid under my comforter, the buffer

exactly what we can suffer
our creator knows all too well
into life He writes coping strategies
providing wind shields for his candles
He's forever turning up the heat
hammering me melty hot on His anvil
though always with water to cool

bunked with hearts so bitter, full of history, guilty
an ocean is near by, and I thank God for cars
every day I stay here, supernatantly-
walking water providentially,
rebounding in ways I can handle

digitalxtremist

01-20-05, 06:59 AM

sleepless championing of the timeless
by digitalextremist (http://digitalextremist.com)

I work 36 to 48 keeping my head straight
life, suburbs of insanity incompletely great-

world spins once, meals eaten by-law thrice
those below throw dice, I'm skating elegant
over time, and the evenings & weekends knife
I'm undivided by its strife, such trifles

suckling from the invisible, metaphysical utter
weekly ritual's a stutter unworthy of eternity
daily too is a phrase we'll use only temporarily
I think of them little, seconds and minutes also
very sparingly; destiny testing me isn't timing
it guides, glides me like a missile so precisely

work like that of many, a mystery paradoxically
rest may help others, not me, better off yawning

eyebrows are my mission head-quarter's awnings
social engineer insider, who channels intellect
I run vs. single steps, besetting what's incorrect

might be three days today, as I'm hiding from sun rays
daylight blasts and strays, riding in a car rolling downhill
tranquil time astronaut; strange, doesn't seem like tumbling
I'm impervious to stomach rumblings, and either eyelid falling
zealous, extremist, ernest digital archer; thunder enlightening
working thirteen days a week, still one more left for sleeping

<hr>

Original:

<b>why I should be</b>

I work from 36 to 48, it keeps my head straight
life, suburbs of insanity incompletely, great
world spins once, meals eaten by-law thrice
those below using dice, as I skate elegant
over time, the evenings & weekends knife
I’m undivided by its strife, a trifle

suckle from the invisible, an available utter
weekly ritual is a stutter unworthy of eternity
daily too is a phrase we’ll use only temporarily
I think little of them, seconds and minutes too
very sparingly, testing destiny is not timing me
I do the work of many, mysteriously, paradoxically
rest may help others, but not me, better off yawning
you see these new days, I watch generations dawning
any good positions opening?